Page 23 of The Sinner: James

I’m not used to being out in the company of men, especially this type of man.

The mix of fear and sheer excitement had given me an unexpected, unfamiliar thrill.

“There you are,” Daria says, somewhat bored, tossing her cigarette on the pavement and crushing the stub with her stiletto.

I swoosh by her, dashing to the car.

We climb in.

She gives me a sidelong glance.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” I say, turning on the engine and swerving the car onto the road.

“You’re too quiet,” she says, suddenly interested in me.

Smoothly, she dips her long fingers into her purse and retrieves another cigarette.

“Don’t,” I say firmly before snatching the cigarette out of her hand, rolling down the window, and tossing it out. “You know how much our mother hates the smell of cigarettes in her car.”

She looks at me, perplexed, her fingers crooked in the air, her lips parted.

“Who are you?” she mutters derisively.

I simply ignore her.

Shifting in her seat, she trains her eyes on me and studies me intently.

“And how did you find me, anyway?” she asks, her voice dripping with suspicion.

“You told me to pick you up at Red’s, remember?”

“I didn’t say to look for me inside. Besides, I wasn’t inside when I called you.”

“Well, I figured someone from Red’s could help me find you.”

“Hmm... Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“So, who did you talk to?”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” I say in a tone she’s never heard before.

She continues, undeterred.

“Man? Woman?”

“Why do you need to know?” I ask, noticing the tension in her voice.

“Who let you in, Rain?” she presses further.

“No one. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter because normally, you wouldn’t be able to get in.”

“Well, maybe it was my lucky night.”

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